(St George and) The Dragon

The way the story tends to go is this:
The snake, or owl, or sheep, or some poor creature
While going about it’s day-to-day existence
Finds itself turned into something deeper.
No longer can it be itself alone,
It has to be a metaphor for us
Of cunning, wisdom maybe, or be known
For blindly following. ‘Twas ever thus.
And yet, from time to time the tables turn,
And metaphor itself becomes alive,
Takes flesh and blood and, somehow, starts to earn
It’s place, and with its fellow creatures thrive.
From our shared struggle over dark and sin
The life of George’s Dragon does begin.

© Rich Clarkson, April 2024